Just when you think you’ve settled in and nothing can suddenly bite you in the bum with its outrageous ‘otherness’, life here shakes you from your complacency. My slowness to understand just how deeply poverty and progress can drive great divides between us, was on show for all to see this week.
We sat with Philbert last night outside Upendo Grocery. It has been hot all week, hot enough to turn puddles into rutted ridges, then shifting sands; hot enough to twist the metal on our new tin roof and hot enough to find two days on a bus to Songea a trial of endurance for anyone. The road to Songea for most of its 600km is unmade and after the rains, filled with potholes and deep ruts. Philbert arrived in time for his mother’s funeral and to lead four days of mourning with family members, many of whom had travelled much further than him.
One of the effects of Nyerere’s social engineering which fashioned a nation from a collection of tribes, is for educated families, like Mr Ngairo’s, to find themselves flung to every corner of this vast country. The journey from Kigoma to Songea takes four full days in the dry season. During the rains, no-one hazards a guess. Government posts are distributed according to availability and one’s education. Candidates do not apply for posts; they are ‘posted’ and whilst account is taken of your preferences, there are many, many people in jobs, many hundreds of miles from their families.
“So your employer was happy for you take ten days off work, then Philbert.” Philbert had been away from Mtwara for twelve full days.
“Ah, of course I wrote a note asking for the time off, but if he had refused I would have quit. For him to refuse would be unthinkable.”
And so we sat and compared the differences between Europe and Africa. I spoke of a teacher living here, from Germany, who is completing two year’s
paternity leave. And in UK, where generally an employee is given a day’s compassionate leave to attend a funeral.
“So a man can have many month’s leave for the arrival of his wife’s baby, but one day for the death of his mother?” remarked Philbert.
The scale of these differences was left hanging in the air. We smiled and sighed and sipped our warm beer.
You would think I would learn. On our way out of Mass last Ash Wednesday I asked Malubiche about Shrove Tuesday.
“In England we make pancakes. It is a tradition we fulfil before we start fasting for Lent.”
“Fasting, Adrian, is not so popular here in Tanzania.”
I felt the hairs on my neck stiffen with embarrassment, but I persisted.
“So the Pope’s new guidelines to avoid meat on Fridays have not been widely publicised here, then John?”
“Ah, I think if we are lucky enough to get meat on a Friday, few of us would reject it in favour of fasting. We fast most days you know.”
My humiliation felt complete. For a moment, I felt that the church is not yet quite as catholic as God has planned.
I was learning to look for differences as the week progressed and as I have finally been given the green light to start teaching an English conversation class, I have tried to design the lessons to be fun, interactive as well as explorations of our respective cultures. I have been careful to try and select a good range of materials, balanced ethnically, across gender, age and interest group, when it comes to illustrating issues with film clips or excerpts of conversation. I decided that in each lesson it would be good to learn a song. My plans were dashed in the first lesson. Tanzania’s exposure to, and awareness of, popular culture in Britain and America is very young. Little earlier than 1990 is known. In a country where the average age of death is 52, even if TV or the internet had permeated Tanzanian culture, few would be alive to talk about it. My films of ‘Hey Jude’, Cat Stevens and Tammy Wynette were going to have to be scrapped
“What is ‘The Beatles’.?”, Mr Adrian.”Who is McCartney?”
Beyonce, Beckham or Britney - fine. The Beatles, Bobby Charlton or Bob Dylan? – not a chance.
Interesting articles, greeting from Belgium.
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